Unusual Love
by Leeta1
Summary: She's a Beater who's expelled from Quidditch for beating up the enemy Seeker. He's a werewolf caught by a spell in the midst of a transformation. Her best friend has crazy hair, and our favorite Potionmaster gets temporarily paralyzed. RLOC SSNT
1. A Farcial Beginning

Disclaimer: We, Leeta and Tem, do not own any of the HP characters. We DO own everything to do with Australia, the extra Quidditch teams, Erin Langhart, and all the plots and dialogue. We also do not own the scenery for Hogwarts.....etc. etc. You all get the picture, right? Right.....

A/N's: This story is co-written by Leeta and Tem, even though it is under Leeta's name. So.....give credit to both of us!!

CHAPTER ONE: The Farcical Beginning  
"Welcome one and all to this Quidditch match; New Zealand versus Australia. My name is Theo Elder, and I will be your gamekeeper for tonight!" He paused for a second, but there was no applause to be heard. Liam laughed and glanced at his father but, like usual, no emotions graced the perfectly white face. In the shade of their box seats, his father looked like a ghost. Liam considered telling him, but thought better of it. "Any way," continued the commentator, "the match! New Zealand versus Australia!" This time Theo had to call a halt to his commentary to let tremendous roars from the crowd subside. "We all know that this match is one of the most highly anticipated in the entire Southern Hemisphere League season, at least in this area, and it will definitely live up to it. All the way from New Zealand, lets give the Wellington Kiwis a welcome!" Elder called out the names as they sped by, "The Chasers: Geoffrey Gnasst, Beldy Boric, and Peter Gove! The Beaters: Hans Alvin and Andrew Kellet! Keeper Katie Tayene, and Seeker Hugo Narthing! Welcome!" The New Zealand side of the arena erupted with applause and wild yells. Liam clapped politely and waited for Theo to continue. "And now give a welcome to your Australian team!" Liam looked through his omnioculars and saw the seven Firebolts streak by. "I give you: Robert Maxx, Christopher Yalemon, and Zachary Blitz as your Chasers. Erin Langhart and Alan Knars as your Beaters. Ode Harrow as your one and only Keeper," a uproar from both the English and the New Zealand sides, "and Seeker Gene Davids! If the referees are ready, let the game begin!" There was a short blast of a whistle, and the game did commence.  
  
Liam watched as the player called Davids fly strait up to circle overhead, Hugo Narthing tailed closely behind.  
  
"What do you think, Liam?" asked someone behind him. Liam turned around to see his friend, Erick Aldin vault the row of seats directly behind Liam and sit down. Two of his friends followed. "Game's going to be good, huh?" Liam nodded and turned back to the game. Not much had happened. Ode Harrow flew almost lazily, like he had the intention to catch the Quaffle himself and score, back to the goals he was supposed to defend while the Australian Chasers, who had lost the Quaffle, took up the pursuit of the New Zealand Chasers. This had a particularly heart-stopping effect when the Australian Chasers passed Ode Harrow, who didn't seem so keen on the whole situation.  
  
"Good gods," Erick squealed when Ode barely made it to the posts to make the save, "he's playing well today isn't he?" Liam, who was sitting on the edge of his seat as well, nodded.  
  
"Yeah," he gasped, when Ode had safely sent the Quaffle on its way down to the other end of the field, "but he's never as relaxed as this. He must really be enjoying this."  
  
"You're sisters not finding herself much action today," noted Erick. "Normally she knocks what, eight people, off their brooms per match?" Liam smiled.  
  
"Yeah, something like that. Shell come to sometime." He watched as his sister, Erin, dive to intercept a bludger aimed at Davids. "She told me that they suspect the New Zealand teams strategy is to keep Davids to preoccupied with saving her own skin to look for the Snitch. That's why Erin's keeping such a close tab on Davids."  
  
"Right," said Erick. "Isn't their strategy normally that?" Liam laughed and nodded.  
  
"Are you and Davids still together?" asked Liam.  
  
"Yeah," answered Erick, intent on the game. "If they so much as scratch her, I'll kill 'em." Liam chuckled at the absent-minded comment. Eric's eyes widened as the New Zealand keeper made a good save, but not as nerve wrenching as Odes was. The New Zealand Beaters aimed two Bludgers at each ends of an Australian Chasers broom as he tore across the field, but had to duck them as Alan Knars and Erin intercepted them. Elder's voice kept an ongoing commentary.  
  
"Those were two very well aimed Bludgers; amazing that Maxx was able to maneuver around them. Maxx going for another goal, dodges another Bludger by Kellet, shoots...and Tayene saves!" There was a roar from the Kiwis. "Tayene passes the Quaffle to Gnasst, Gnasst is up the field followed closely by Gove. Bludger to Gnasst from Langhart, Gnasst spins and passes the Quaffle to Gove. Gove back up the field, dodges Chaser Blitz, shoots and... and Harrow saves the Quaffle! All I can say is that this had better not be a very dirty game, seeing as how both the Australian and New Zealand reserve teams are now playing each other at the Wellington stadium. All we can do is pray, and play civilly," added he, as Alan Knars rocketed a Bludger towards Tayene.  
  
Liam tried to pay attention to his sister, but his eyes kept drifting towards either Harrow or Narthing. Whenever Harrow made a save, the Australians would cheer and when he made a particularly difficult save, the Kiwis would join in. One of the saves, Harrow dove from his broom and scooped the Quaffle up right before it had the chance to go through a hoop. His broom dove below him and he landed perfectly.  
  
"I read somewhere that Ode gets that trick from a Quidditch keeper about a hundred years ago. Name of Devin Bates, I think, but no one knows that now. As far as they're concerned, that's one of Odes specialties. It works almost every time. Hah! Remember that one time when we he was playing verse Swaziland?" Liam nodded, smirking at the memory, and the game progressed. The Quaffle went in turn to the New Zealand keeper, who missed by a fraction of an inch, and the score was 10 to 0.  
  
The Quaffle was played across the field so many times Liam lost count. He only vaguely kept track of Elders commentary. For a while he watched Harrow, but soon became bored as he saw that Harrow was now completely swept up into the game to perform any more tricks. The Seekers were far more interesting to watch. Almost as soon as he turned the omnioculars to Narthing, Narthing went into a very steep dive. "Don't follow, Gene, don't follow," Liam heard Erick whispering behind him. Thankfully Davids didn't follow, and Liam saw why. There wasn't any Snitch in the direction that Narthing was heading; Narthing had pulled a Wronski Feint. Davids took a quick look around the pitch, scanned the whole area in a few seconds, and took off in the opposite direction that Narthing had dove. "Hah!" Erick exclaimed in satisfaction. "Serves the bloody..."  
  
"Erick," Liam warned and jerked his head to where his father sat next to him. Erick smiled but fell silent.  
  
Narthing pulled out of his dive just in time to see Davids take off across the field. With a quick turn, Narthing was in fast pursuit. Soon he was at Davids tail, and pulling steadily up the side. Then he swerved and dove. Suddenly, a Bludger from the New Zealand Beaters collided with Davids" gut, sending her spinning from her broom. Another Bludger promptly broke her Firebolt in half. There was an uproar from the Australian crowd.  
  
"That was a nasty trick played by the New Zealand Beaters! When the Seeker is within catching distance of the Snitch only the other Seeker can attack him," Elder lectured. "Deserves a foul, and yes there are the referees, going to talk to them. A very nasty trick indeed! Stupid, really, that's one of the things you learn the first day at camp. It's not a new rule, either! My god, what were the Kiwis thinking? I can't believe that actually happened in an international game! We're supposed to have quality Quidditch, not this nanny panny...stuff...that they just did! What the hell were they thinking?" Liam was quite shocked to see all the heads on the New Zealand side of the arena turn to where Elder stood. Cat calls and magically magnified raspberries erupted in an instant, drowning out the commentary. Someone must have said something up in the box because Elders voice grew suddenly quieter. However, the loss of Elders ridicule only drove the Australian spectators to scream louder. The chanting that undernoted Elders commentary now grew to a steady roar. Indeed, Erick was quite engrossed in it all.  
  
"Unfair!" Erick was yelling from behind Liam. "Foul, foul!" Liam looked around and saw that most of the other Australian supporters were thinking the same as Erick. They were all, mostly, standing and making rather obtrusive gestures to the Kiwi spectators on the other side of the field, who were, in turn, sending their own pleasant messages along as well. Liam looked sheepishly at his father, and saw that a stern look had replaced the normally emotion absent face. It wasn't until Elders voice gasped until the ranting subsided enough to hear a communal oooh" from the crowd and Liam focused back on Davids, expecting to see her on the ground and lying in an odd position. She wasn't.  
  
Narthing had her by the back of her jersey and was slowly drifting down to the ground. Medical wizards were rushing onto the field as Narthing lay Davids down and took off again. Liam looked back at Erick, whose fist was halfway down. He had a look of complete surprise on his face that could almost be comparable to relief. If Narthing had been trying to redeem his team, the effect of his deed certainly hit the spot. Almost immediately afterwards the entire stadium had returned to the normal buzz of conversation. The medics wrestled a rather bloody Davids off the field, and she didn't return. The Australians were down a player; it was the most important player that they had. Liam scanned the remaining Australian players with his omnioculars, and saw that Erin Langhart had a look of pure loathing on her face.  
  
"Check out my sister," he whispered, back to Erick. Quickly Erick moved his omnioculars up to where she was floating and laughed.  
  
"Someone's going to commit murder," Erick snorted. "Maybe I should postpone my trip to the hospital wing; this game might just be worth sticking around for."  
  
Meanwhile, back on the field, the game had resumed. Blitz had missed during the penalty shot, and the Quaffle was now streaking back towards the Australian goal. Harrow came up quickly to block the shot, but the Chaser, Gnasst, dodged and put the Quaffle through the goal. There were mixed emotions from the crowd. Erick and Liam moaned, but the other side of the stadium exploded with cries of support to their team. Harrow righted himself after flipping over, and looked around. The Quaffle had returned to Blitz, who passed it to Maxx. Maxx dodged Gove, passed back to Blitz, who looped the keeper and put the Quaffle through the hoop. The score was 60 to 20.  
  
Gnasst took the Quaffle back up the field, but was hit halfway by a Bludger from Erin. She was given a penalty, which Harrow blocked effortlessly. Harrow threw the Quaffle to Maxx, who sped back up the pitch. Liam held his breath as he saw Narthing dive. This time, the New Zealand Seeker had really spotted the Snitch. It was hovering at the base of the Australian middle goal. "Good lord," whispered Erick in surprise. Two Bludgers collided into Narthing one after the other. The New Zealand Seeker slid off his broom, unconscious and crashed into the sand beneath him. Liam focused his omnioculars on the Seeker and cringed. More medi wizards were rushing onto the field to hustle Narthing off the pitch.  
  
"What is going on?" Elder yelled. "What did I just say? You cannot attack a Seeker when he is in within catching distance of the Snitch! What is this? And Hugo Narthing doesn't look like he's in fit playing condition any more, either! There are the refs, going to talk to Erin Langhart." Liam's heart sank.  
  
"You're sisters bloody brilliant," Erick congratulated. "Top notch, that kid."  
  
"I guess she is," Liam whispered. "But it doesn't look good for her."  
  
"Yup, so you say, Liam," Erick agreed. "That ref there is giving her a red tag. Shell not be seeing another game for a few months." Erick paused for a second, brow contracting. "What a stupid ref," said he. "I suppose he's too stupid to realize that this is the grand finale to the whole season. Oh, wait." Erick stopped talking abruptly. "That's not good." The ref had handed her an ordinary slip of paper instead of the traditional laminated red one. "Did he just give her Quidditch contract back? Oh, man. I'm sorry mate." Erick gave Liam a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "That's really not good."  
  
Back on the pitch, Erin looked as though she was cursing quite colorfully at the ref. She clutched her contract in her hand and was jabbing her finger in his chest. The ref whipped out his wand and Erin backed off, giving the wand a nasty look. With a few more thoughts ornamented and flourished with socially unacceptable language, Erin flew off the pitch. Boos at the ref from the Australian spectators were even louder than when Davids had been knocked off her broom. The ref gave a short blast on his whistle and the game embarked again.  
  
Gnasst took the penalty shot and missed, predictably. As soon as the captured Quaffle left Harrow's hand, he became very alert. As the other players sped away from him, across the pitch, Harrow froze. Liam could only see his eyes moving, searching the ground and then the stadium. Suddenly, they too froze. There was a pause, and then he dove with superb grace. Liam smiled, sure that he had not seen a dive so flawless, or vertical, before. Ode had finally decided to amuse the crowd.  
  
The stadium was completely quiet; everyone was trying to see what Harrow had. Elder's commentary had stopped, again. Maxx, who had just been knocked off his broom by Alvin and was hanging on by just one hand, turned to look at Harrow. The referees" whistles were halfway to their mouths, and even the Chaser that had the Quaffle, turned to watch. Turning sharply to the right, Harrow pulled out of the dive. His hand was clasped around a struggling, golden ball. Everyone on the New Zealand team looked very confused. Elder's voice broke the silence. His voice seemed weak.  
  
"There you have it," he wheezed. "Ode Harrow has caught the Snitch. Australia wins, 210 to 20." The Australian supporters exploded.  
  
"Well, Liam," said Erick, standing up, "I guess Ill see you later then. I suppose I'm overdue to check on Gene. Ah, well, she'll live. Normally does, you know." He grinned and turned to leave with his two friends. "Tell your sister that I'm sorry. She should move up to the North and then she can play again; shouldn't just let her talent go to waste, should she?" Liam shook his head and waved as Erick left the box.  
  
"Father," said Liam, "I suppose we should go find Erin."  
  
"I can't believe that they gave it back to me," Erin sobbed, flinging the crumpled Quidditch contract onto an end table when she stormed through the front door to their flat. Liam sighed and took her coat. "Now what am I going to do with my life? No, wait, I remember, Quidditch was my life."  
  
"Quite being sarcastic, Erin, and sit down," Liam demanded. Erin sank into a chair and sniffed.  
  
"I did the exact same thing as Kellet and Alvin," she complained. "So why did I get my contract revoked?"  
  
"Well, they didn't break Gene's back and compound fracture her femur, now did they?" Erin stared up into Liam's complacent face.  
  
"He deserved it," she whispered and buried her face in her hands. "I'd do it again."  
  
"You don't have to tell me, little sister," Liam explained and rested a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I know you would."  
  
"Tell me Ill never loose you," she pleaded. Liam smiled as though he thought she was half-hysterical, which she was. "Please, just promise me." Liam heaved a tremendous sigh.  
  
"I promise," said he and knelt before her, taking both her hands in his. "I promise that nothing will ever happen to take me away. I swear it by all that I know." He bowed his head for a moment. "Still," he continued, gazing up at his sister. "There will be nothing that can tear you away from me." Erin glanced up with a wicked smile then hid her face. "Anyway, look on the bright side of things. You can now go about your wolfsbane experiments with absolutely nothing to sidetrack you." Erin's eyes lit up as she lifted her head. "And," continued Liam, "you can put your school work to use. You didn't score perfect N.E.W.T.S in potions and charms for nothing, did you?"

A/N's: We love reviews....and this story gets a lot better. I like it, she likes it, we like it.....plz plz review!! luv y'all lots....long live quidditch!


	2. A Long Way from Home

A/N's: Here's the second chapter. If you want the disclaimer, it's in the first chapter. You go to that page EVERYTIME you open up the story, so for the comfort of your minds and ours, please read it. But you don't have to. Just pretend to. smile and nod Anyways...  
  
CHAPTER TWO: A Long Way From Home  
Two years later:  
  
"G'day, mate! Sun's a bit hot today, isn't it?" A short Muggle in a crunched tan hat, brown shorts, a fly fishing vest, beaten up leather hiking boots, and socks infested with some particularly vile looking seeds, stepped out from under an umbrella like eucalyptus tree. "Nasty, record breaking heat we've been having around these parts. Hell, not even the sheep will move to their greens. Ah, well." He looked up at the slightly taller person he had just greeted. A heavy looking, long, black cloak concealed the face. The Muggle peered up in earnest, trying to see whom he was talking to. Unable to, but seemingly unperturbed, he continued. "Now, what'd you be doing in the bay area for? Looking for something or the other, right?"  
  
"Actually," remarked the person inside the cloak dryly, "I live here."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"It seems to me," the cloaked figure continued, "that you're the one that seems a tad lost." A hand fumbled for something inside of the cloak. Somewhat apprehensively, the Muggle watched.  
  
"No. No, I live here too," the Muggle assured the hidden person. "Actually, I run a mean dinghy business down near the jetty." He motioned out behind him, towards the south, and turned to walk under the eucalyptus tree. "Do you like boating?" The cloaked person was gone. With slight confusion, the Muggle rotated in a circle, looking for the missing person. "Strange," said he to himself when he found that there was no one in sight. "A bizarre chap, none the less. He must have been near madness to be wearing that old cloak on a day of this heat. Ah, well. Best to get inside before the heat gets any worse." The Muggle tarried a little longer under the shade of the trees before tipping his hat the direction of the sun and stepping out into the blazing light.  
  
"It's impossible I tell you! I can't get a bloody six kilometers from this bloody house! Just now I landed in some dump of a desert and this chatty Muggle starts talking crazy stuff about junk I could care less about and then I have to listen to the man before I get my bearings and come back here! Do you know how invigorating it is to listen to a half-crazed Muggle rant about the heat? Well, I'll tell you. It's just about as bad as not being able to disapperate because of some fluke thing that happens with the bloody stars that makes my wand screw up and," the woman took a huge breath paused for a brief moment before she continued, "that makes no bloody sense at all!"  
  
"That would be most annoying," a man, lounging in a high-backed chair in front of a roaring fireplace, drawled. He had a bemused hint in his voice.  
  
"Damn right it's annoying! Can you believe it! I'm going to have to wait a bloody month now until the stars straighten themselves out again before I can get anywhere! It makes no sense and it's as bloody inconvenient as I'll get out."  
  
"Must be almost as annoying as listening to a sister who can't even explain a problem without blowing up and pretending like the world is out to get her," said the man in the chair, leaning over the side and grinning at the furious woman. She fumed and dug her wand out of her cloak and the man laughed. "Go ahead, Erin. I'd like to see you hex me when you can't even disapperate."  
  
"The world is out to get me!" Erin whined, stuffing her wand back in her robes and shooting a very cross look the man's way. "You'd be doing the exact same things if your wand does bloody hell wrong things and can't even be fixed because the stupid wandmakers are afraid they'll make the wand even more unreliable than it already is!" Can you believe it? The people who made the wand won't even take on the responsibility for its bloody problems! What a fantastic mess!"  
  
"Can't you be the least bit quiet?" asked the man in the chair and stood to face the ranting person. "Listen, Erin, it's not my fault the stars effect Mum's wand, so leave it in peace will you? It probably only happens because the wand doesn't like you and you've been too busy to go out and get a new one for something like fourteen years. I really don't want to listen to you tell me every other minute about how you hate this that and the other. Leave it at rest, won't you?" He ran a hand through his close cropped, sandy hair as he watched her response.  
  
"Come on, Liam, you know I don't mean it!" Erin laughed and puffed a piece of sun bleached hair away from her face. She smiled a few seconds longer and then rolled her eyes and began to mutter to herself. "Damn, I don't know why it's got to be my stupid wand that's got the spiritual or emotional or what else wrong with it! Why it can't be some bloody South African's or some Yank's, I don't know. It's like the half the damn world is out to get me and the other half is trying to sabotage the other half but instead of sabotaging them, they end up screwing with my brain and the likes of that. Why can't they all lay off and go screw with someone else's mind?" Erin shook her head in disgust and slumped into a rotating chair near a large bay window. She peered out the lace curtains and across the great Sydney Bay. Boats with sails turned slightly yellow from the constant sea air blowing through them scudded to and fro about the bay, as if it were all one big parade. "What I wouldn't give for a normal life," Erin muttered and then jumped as Liam lay a hand on her shoulder. "What?" she asked, disgruntled. Liam snorted and swiveled Erin around to face him.  
  
"I wasn't going to tell you," he began with a sheepish grin, "but I guess you'd like something to get your mind off your wand." Erin looked as though she were about to embark on yet another tirade. "Knock off, will you? That's better," said he when she slouched back into her chair. "Oh, and lay off the South Africans, got it? We've got some family down there; wouldn't want to hurt any feelings, you know," he whispered when Erin slumped in her chair again. "You got a letter from...some place in England, I'm not exactly sure where. Anyway, Father's got it downstairs, but I really don't think it'd be a best time to bug him right now; seeing how he's in a tight spot with the government. Might not appreciate you storming down there right now..."  
  
"Go on," Erin whispered with anxiety and stood up, "what's it say?" Liam smiled.  
  
"Your application has been accepted," said Liam, smiling with a sneer drawn perfectly up to his nose. "The healers at that Muddos in London were very interested in you clinical trials with wolfsbane and the other...werewolf charms."  
  
"They're potions," Erin corrected. "And it's St. Mungo's, not Muddos."  
  
"Potions, charms, curses...what difference is there anyway? You know me, I hate anything that has to do with something other than...history." Erin looked uncomfortable and turned back to the window. "Anyway," Liam continued quickly, "they want you to go up there and spend some time as the new healer in residence. Sounds fun, doesn't it? You'll get out of this heat, at least." As if to make a point, he wiped his perspiring brow on his sleeve. Erin turned around slowly and gazed up a Liam in disbelief.  
  
"They want me," she pointed a finger at herself, "to go up to London? I'm a retired Quidditch Beater for Merlin's sake! They want me to be the healer in residence?" Liam nodded, growing more bored by the second. "You can't be serious," Erin whispered. "That's impossible!"  
  
"Believe me," Liam growled, striding over to the chair by the fireplace, "it most definitely is possible, and probable. They want you to arrive in two days; apparently they have an emergency case on the line and they need your talent straight away. Believe it, little sister, you've got the brains to get just about any medical job in either the magical or Muggle world." With a reasonably jovial smile, he sat in the chair and pulled a thick book of the lamp table next to him. Erin crossed to his chair and stood behind it.  
  
"Is Father alright about it?" Liam nodded into his book. "Are you positive?" she chided. "The last time you told me that Father was okay with me doing something I got the pleasure of skipping three meals because, it seems, that Father was utterly not alright with me collecting wolfsbane a midnight."  
  
"It was your bloody idea," Liam snorted and shifted in his chair so he could glance up at Erin. "He had his reasons about not wanting you to go." Erin gritted her teeth and shot him a dark look. "He was fine with the idea, Erin. Perfectly fine. He was the one who initially read the letter; was a bit surprised in the beginning that you got the job...Anyway, he seems glad to be rid of you."  
  
"He'd be glad, alright," Erin grimaced and rolled her eyes. "So, they want me in two days?" Liam nodded, obviously not listening to a word she was saying. His nose was inches away from the book's binding. Every time he flipped a page it brushed up against the tip of his nose. "Great," Erin smiled, looking up and scanning the room. The noise of a crinkled page against her brother's nose made her jump. She looked sharply down at his curled up form and sighed. "What are you reading?" she asked, not really wanting to know the answer.  
  
"The History of the Australian Law by Johannes Tinker."  
  
"Sounds about as entertaining as trying to dance with a Queensland grindylow."  
  
"I can't believe I have to take the Muggle plane," Erin exclaimed, exasperated, under her breath and clutched her ticket tightly. Her father looked on in stony silence. Liam wore his customary sheepish grin hugged her tightly as a Muggle came over the intercom and announced that boarding onto Erin's flight was beginning.  
  
"Go take out some werewolves, will you?" Liam laughed and thumped her on the back. "Try not to have too much fun, though." Erin nodded, turned briefly to her dad, saw he had made no move to wish her on her ways, turned to the ticket taker, and handed the crisp piece of tag board to the plump Muggle. With a wave back a Liam and the grim statue that appeared to be her father, she was on her way to England.  
  
"Are you...Erin Langhart?" a tall man in a spotless black suit asked. He looked skeptical, but friendly, none the less. Erin nodded and the man smiled, offering to take her bags. "My name is Mark DeEvlin; I'm from St. Mungo's. They told me you would be arriving by a Muggle plane. It's my first time in an airport," he told her as they pushed past Muggles eager to greet loved ones or get luggage or what not. "Rather an interesting place."  
  
"Yes, sorry about all this," apologized Erin, jerking the bag she was carrying out of the way from colliding with a surly looking Muggle's kneecap. "It's a real bother."  
  
"Not a problem at all," laughed the man. "I rather enjoy coming into the Muggle world; it's not something we do very often, you see. Makes up for a particularly boring day in the office, although we don't get many of those," he admitted with a frown. Laughing at the horrified look on Erin's face, he opened the airport's door and followed her as she stepped through it. "Shall we disapperate from here?" Erin felt the color rise in her cheeks as she answered him.  
  
"Actually, I'm really sorry about this, but that's the reason that I took the Muggle transportation in the first place. My wand has some...problems...with it and for some reason won't allow me to apperate very successfully; actually no predictability at all. More's the pity."  
  
"Don't worry," Mark chuckled, "there's no harm done. We'll just take the Underground and be on our way then. It goes quite near Mungo's, or so I'm told. I don't have a great amount of experience using Muggle transportation." With a wink, he flagged down a taxi and helped her get in. "No need to worry," he whispered to her as the taxi driver gave them suspicious looks from the front seat, "the taxi system in England is superior to many other systems of transportation. Makes it all the easier to get exactly where I need to go."  
  
The taxi driver dropped them off in front of a exceptionally ratty looking building with "closed to renovation" signs posted all over the windows. Mark paid the driver and led Erin right up to the window of the closed store front. Leaning forward, he spoke directly to a teetering female dummy. "Mark DeEvlin here with," he paused for a second, looking embarrassed as he tried to remember Erin's name. She whispered it to him. "Erin Langhart, to see Head Healer Gregory Avatt." Erin watched apprehensively as the dummy nodded curtly. "Right this way, then," said Mark and made an elegant sweeping motion towards the solid glass window. Now giving him the apprehensive look, Erin stepped into the glass, half expecting to stub her toe. Quite gratefully, she didn't, and found herself in a massive lobby. Mark took her arm as he appeared next to her. "His office is just down the hall to your left. First door on the right. Give me your bags, and I'll put them where you can get to them when you need them." He smiled curtly when she gave him her bag and left with a nod.  
  
Feeling much smaller than her five feet nine and a half inches, Erin wound her way around wizards fighting to speak properly, one who couldn't even make an explicit sound without gurgling, towards the hall that Mark had pointed out to her. She escaped a conversation with a bothered looking gargoyle hopping on its tail and managed to slip into the shadowy hall before anyone else noticed her. Taking a deep breath, she continued silently down the hall and stopped at the door with a plaque that read "Head Healer Gregory F. Avatt›expert in counter curse charms, illegal potions remedies, and experimental Muggle treatment." Gritting her teeth, Erin knocked on the heavy looking door. The sound echoed dully around the hall. There was a pause, a scraping of a chair as someone rose, padding across the floor to the door, and then a creak as the handle turned to reveal a middle sized older man wearing thick glasses.  
  
"Yes?" asked the man quizzically. "Can I help you?"  
  
"Um...yeah," Erin responded, clearing her throat. "I'm Erin Langhart from Australia here about the new residency." The older man's eyes lit up immediately and he stepped away from the door, opening it wide.  
  
"Excellent. I've been expecting you." Erin stepped through the door into a richly decorated room covered with pictures of wizards wearing clothes she could have sworn had not been seen in over four hundred years. The room was furnished with a complete set of dark, mahogany furniture and comfortable looking, overstuffed chairs. "Please, sit down." The Head Healer motioned to a chair sitting opposite his desk. He took his own seat in an elegant spinning chair behind the desk. "I was hoping you would arrive soon."  
  
"I was not informed I was that urgently in need of," Erin apologized. "The plane was delayed in Sydney due to a huge rain storm, which we haven't had in months, but..." The Head Healer held up a hand for silence.  
  
"I was blaming you for nothing," said he, simply. "I was, however, merely stating my great sense of relief now that you are here." Erin looked at the rug between her feet. The wizard certainly had a way about making one feel uncomfortable. "You see," said he, reclining in his chair and staring intently at the embarrassed woman in front of him, "we have an emergency that none of us have been able to solve, that deals exactly with the subject that we hired you to fulfill." Erin looked up swiftly. Liam had been right. "He was brought to us four days ago under suspicious circumstances and was near death. Luckily, we've been able to keep him alive by using an interesting form of Muggle medications, intravenous fluids, actually." Erin wrinkled her noes at the thought of using Muggle remedies to cure an unsuccessful transformation.  
  
"Please, sir," she started uncertainly, "might I see him? This sounds quite bad, as you've described it." Gregory stood up at once and nodded curtly.  
  
"I hadn't thought that you would wish to see him today, seeing how you've just arrived from a very trying flight. If you would like, I will call for someone to show you to him." Erin nodded and the stout man flipped a switch behind his desk, then sat back down. There was a brief moment of uneasy silence, then a knock on the door. "Come in," the Head Healer called imperiously. A thin man with graying hair and a thin face opened the door and poked his head through. "Ahh, good. Jensen, will you show her," he indicated Erin, "to the SOUP ward?" The man looked terrified, but complied. "Excellent. Now," he continued, turning to Erin, "I'd like you to begin your work tomorrow at eight o'clock. Precisely then, and no later. I've arranged for DeEvlin to take your bags to a flat that I've had previous residents stay in. I'm sure you'll like it; it's in the center of London. Nice view over the Tames River, you know. Does that sound good?" Erin didn't dare say "no" to this man who seemed to demand respect. She nodded courteously and made her way to the open door. Jensen turned on his heal the moment he'd shut the door and practically ran through the dark passageway in the opposite direction that Erin had originally arrived from.  
  
The passage opened up into a bustling hallway filled with patients coming and going. "This way," the healer motioned and hurried along the brightly-lit hallway towards a huge set of stairs. They climbed up to the third floor and sped down a series of other dark hallways toward a ward with a huge sign above, it notifying passing people that it was the SERIOUS, or OTHERWISE UNPROPITIOUS, PATIENTS. Erin shuddered as she crept in past the steel door, expecting to see half-mutilated patients or worse. Instead, she saw nothing of the sort.  
  
The room that Erin found herself immersed in was smaller than other rooms she had worked in when she was in Sydney, but reasonably comfortable. The one bed in the room had been shoved away from the sole window and lay completely in the shadows. A nightstand stood on its right hand side, piled with undisturbed magazines. A large, wrapped slab of chocolate lay over the neatly stacked magazines, but it too was untouched. The flighty healer led her over to the side of the bed and slipped a clipboard out from a pocket at the foot of the bed. Erin examined the man lying in the bed.  
  
Erin grimaced, as she looked him over. He might have been extremely good looking only a handful of years ago, or maybe even before this atrocity. The recent years, and the hard life in a world prejudice against the werewolf, had worn away some of his looks, but certainly not all. His hair was lightly washed with gray, but most was still a sandy blond color that was only slightly darker than Liam's hair. His face was charming, but thin and worn from his recent ordeal. His skin was strained across his wan, hallowed face. His breath was labored and sporadic. Erin snorted in sympathy, pushing the hair out of her face that insisted on staying wherever she wanted it least. "What happened?" asked she, quietly.  
  
"Umm..." said Jensen quite intelligently, "he had a bout with some..." The healer looked nervous. With a cough, he continued. "With some...a certain dark wizard. Let's say he didn't come out of it so well. Sadly enough, the full moon waxed the day after he was brought in and he transformed, sapping his body of all the strength it had left. We're unsure as to if he'll live at all." Erin remembered that Gregory had mentioned I.V. fluids kept this specific man alive. She scanned the general area for them and spotted the nasty looking bladder hanging from a thin metal wrack. The needle at the end of the clear tube punctured the skin above his elbow joint. Erin gritted her teeth as pessimistic thoughts flooded her mind. "Can you tell how bad off he is, right now?" asked Jensen anxiously. Erin looked up from staring at the sleeping wizard and up into the eyes of the healer with a pained expression. Frowning, she knelt by the reclined wizard's side and checked his thin arm for a pulse. It was slow, but otherwise normal. His temperature was possibly a tad low. All symptoms that she'd seen in other werewolves that were too weak to undergo the transformation. Erin shrugged as she stood up again.  
  
"I'll need to speak with him before I can make any hard hypothesizes regarding his health," said she. "Right now I can't see anything drastically not normal about him." The healer nodded and slipped the clipboard back into the pouch at the foot of the bed then watched as Erin checked the sleeping man's pulse again. "What did you say his name is?"  
  
"I didn't," the healer sighed. "His name is Remus Lupin, and I'd be careful if you plan on interrogating him when he wakes up. You'll find he can very easily side step any question that he has mind to."  
  
A/N's: We love reviews..... 


	3. I, Gentleman Werewolf

CHAPTER THREE: I, Gentleman Werewolf

Erin rolled out of bed, dreaming of the clear Australian skies

she left. Not that I mind the rain, she thought giddily. Still half

asleep, she maneuvered through her luxurious flat and to the bathroom, where

she successfully turned the shower on and stepped in. It's a nice thing

that Liam persuaded me to cut my hair, she considered, fifteen minutes later

as she stood in the tub, drying herself off. Not as much to comb, or to

deal with, for that matter. She pulled on her clothes before picking up her

comb and forcefully brushing her stubborn, sun-bleached blond hair into

submission. Normally, it was a job and a half, made worse by London's high

humidity levels. Eventually, however, she was able to calm the unruly hair

and force it back into a stubby ponytail.

The clock read 7:15. That meant there was only forty-five

minutes to grab some food, catch a taxi, navigate through Muggle London, and

arrive at St. Mungo's at 8:00. Maybe the food would have to wait until

lunch, she thought, when at least the knew where she was. Erin laughed,

pulled her thick, black over overcoat from the coat rack and opened her flat

door, still not used to the fact that although she had left a hot spring in

Australia, the days here were bitter cold. This has got to be one of the

most confusing cities that I've ever had to navigate through.

She caught a taxi outside her flat at precisely 7:25, as gloomy

clouds began to drizzle, and was able to direct the driver to within a block

or two from St. Mungo's front entrance. The Muggle pulled away from the

curb with a large grin on her face, and Erin had a feeling that perhaps

she'd paid her a bit too much. That's how it is, I'll bet, with the

Galleons and Knuts and the like. I never was too great at math though.

At exactly 8:00, Erin met Head Healer Gregory outside his

office. The impression he gave her this time was much more relaxed than the

day before, where the introductions never occurred. He was a nice sort of

man, one whom was quiet enough to be considered shy, but not to the extent

he let ideas and controversial notions float by his ears without

reprimanding. Order was key in his success as the Head Healer, and the ship

he kept was tightly run, and overseen. However, one couldn't help but

revere his square wrinkled face and the occasional twinkle behind his thick

glasses.

The Head Healer greeted her with a tired smile and a firm

handshake and escorted her towards the SOUP ward. 'Did Jensen show you

Remus Lupin yesterday? I'm terribly sorry that I was unable to,' said

Gregory, getting straight to the point. Erin nodded, but before she was

able to remark on Lupin's situation, the Head Healer abruptly began again.

'Good. I was hoping he didn't forget. He often does, you see, forget the

mildly important details like that.' They continued in silence towards

Lupin's ward. Gregory seemed slightly uncomfortable. 'Remus woke up

yesterday, after you left,' he sighed. 'He's a bit disoriented, keeps

asking where Mad-eye, Kingsley, Tonks are. They're aurors for the

Ministry,' he added at the look on Erin's face. 'I think it might have

something to do with what he was doing before he was brought in, but

naturally we have no clue what it could be. For all we know they could have

been having tea at the Leaky Cauldron.'

'Jensen seemed to have an idea about where he had been,' Erin

commented. The Head Healer raised his eyebrows and frowned.

'Did he now? Well that would make sense; he was the one that

originally oversaw the caring for Lupin. Anyway, don't mind if he's a bit

disconcerting, all right? He's in a mild state of shock, still terribly

weak, and can say things that he doesn't really mean to.' Gregory stopped

in front of the ward's door. 'Once you get to know him, he's really quiet a

gentleman. I'll leave you to him.' He opened the door and Erin stepped

inside.

'Umm, sir?' she asked timidly. 'Where are you going?'

'I have other work to do, Miss Langhart. You see, although I am

fascinated by Remus Lupin's condition, I have other obligations to attend

to. I'm sure you can manage.' With a curt smile, he began to close the door.

'Call down to me if there's anything you require, understand?' Erin nodded

and Gregory shut the door behind her with a click.

Erin took a deep breath to calm herself, walked to the foot of

the bed, and picked up the clipboard that Jensen had placed there the day

before. Over the top, she noticed that the man in the bed was staring at

her. She nodded quickly and pretended to busy herself with the papers

clipped to the clipboard.

'Pardon me for interrupting,' the man began in the bed in a

quiet, labored voice tinted with a dismal tone. 'But who are you? It seems

to me that I've seen you somewhere else, but I can't quite place it.' Erin

lowered the clipboard and took a few steps around the food of the bed to

bring her closer to the man.

'That would be most peculiar because I don't recall ever seeing

you in Australia,' said Erin in a cordial tone. 'My name is Erin Langhart;

I'm the new resident healer. I specialize in werewolves,' she added.

'I suppose they've already introduced me to you, but I prefer to

introduce myself.' He held out a weak hand for Erin to shake. Erin shook

it as he presented himself. 'Remus Lupin,' he whispered. His grip was

fragile.

'My pleasure.' Erin let his hand fall. 'So, basically my job

is to get you out of here as soon as I can so you can get about your normal

life.' Tired eyes gazed up at her. He's nice enough, she thought,

rummaging through the paperwork once more, looking for nothing in

particular. I wonder why they keep warning me about him. I didn't expect

he'd be so quiet after all those warnings. She looked around and pulled a

chair up to the side of his bed. 'Alright,' she began, puffing her ear

length hair out of her eyes. Lupin chuckled. 'Umm...so, how long have you

been up?' She tapped her pencil to an imaginary beat on the clipboard,

noticed she was doing it, and gave Lupin a meek grin. 'It's a habit I'm

trying to stop.'

'I've been up since about five yesterday afternoon.' A bored

sigh.

'Okay, well that's good. Interesting.' She flipped through the

papers again.

'What's interesting?'

'Well, that's half an hour after I left. Must have cured you on

the spot.' Lupin snorted and Erin looked up, smirking. 'Anyway...do you

remember what day it was when you transformed?' Lupin concentrated on the

ceiling.

'What you have to understand,' said he, 'is that I didn't

transform before I was injured. I was hit with a rather powerful curse, and

that's about all I remember. That was December 24th.' Erin glanced up to

the spot on the ceiling that apparently was of some interest, then scribbled

down some untidy notes on the back of a page.

'Sucks for you to be here during the Christmas holidays,' said

she, biting her lip and taking another glance around the room as she waited

for him to return his attention to her. It didn't ever happen. 'Do you

know what curse you were hit with?'

'Yes.' Erin waited for a follow up, but the ceiling had

captivated all of Remus Lupin's attention.

'Would you mind telling me what curse it was?' She began to tap

on the clipboard again, unconsciously. Lupin gave the pencil a quick,

horrified stare and looked back at the ceiling. Erin smiled guiltily and

stopped.

'No.' Again, Erin waited for a response, but none came. With a

glance from Lupin to the ceiling, she sighed.

'Some time this century would be nice.' Lupin smiled at the

ceiling and turned to face her. His smile was gone.

'The curse was a powerful one, that's all I care to say.'

'Well, you already told me that,' Erin pointed out. 'Would you mind giving

me a name?'

'The name is irrelevant, Miss Langhart,' he dismissed and shook his head. 'I

was not...' There was a pause as Lupin debated over a careful selection of

words. '...in the right place at the right time.' Erin frowned and sat back

in her chair. Lupin eyed the papers on her clipboard nervously. Erin

grinned in what she hoped was similar to one of Liam's contagious smiles.

It worked. A shy smile appeared on Lupin's lips.

'This will be off the notes, this conversation, from now on,'

said she, and began to slide the clipboard under her chair, but thought

better of it. 'Care to look at these?' she asked and held the clipboard out

for Lupin to take. He took it with a wary glance at Erin and shifted through

them. 'Before we go anywhere, my name is Erin, not Miss Langhart. It makes

me sound like an old spinster.' Lupin smiled at that, and she returned it,

hoping that it would put him at ease. 'Now,' she continued, 'can you tell

me what you were doing on that night you got cursed?' Lupin looked up from

the papers and smiled condescendingly, his wariness back in place.

'I can.' He snorted. Great, Erin thought, I've got to deal with

a grammar freak. This is just the type of thing that Liam would enjoy. Why

me? She cursed under her breath and Lupin laughed out loud.

'Will you?' asked Erin, exasperated. Maybe those warnings were

valid. He seems to enjoy annoying me though. He and Liam would get along

perfectly.

'Alright.' There was a pause and Erin was sure they were going

to repeat the steps of their earlier conversation. Right before she was

going to prompt a response, Lupin took a deep breath and flipped another

sheet of paper over. He didn't look up as he began. 'One of my good

friends, well sort of good friend, was in danger, so a small group of us

went to scope out his situation. We all felt confident that we could come

out of whatever the problem was unhurt. It was the day before the full

moon. Needless to say I'd taken my potions, so I was perfectly safe.' He

flipped the sheet he had been reading over and continued. 'To make a rather

uninteresting story short, we burst into a...an... Um, and

met a large group of...people...and fought them. That's basically it.'

'Basically?' Erin wondered with a smile. 'What's the not so

basic part?'

'What we were doing the rest of the time.' Lupin's warning tone

was clear enough for Erin to put her hands out defensively in front of her.

'Okay, okay, you don't want to talk about that. Got it. But

would you mind telling me who we and us are?' Lupin looked up from the

charts and met Erin's twinkling eyes with stern, questioning ones.

'Yes.' The voice was very bitter this time.

'Alright, fine,' Erin muttered, a bit put out. 'You're going to have to

tell me the rest of the story one of these days, though, if I'm ever going

to figure out what's wrong with you.'

'You'll find there's a lot more wrong than that of what they told you, Miss

Langhart' Lupin derided. Erin shrugged and conjured a bottle of Sleeping

Draft with a flick of her wand, thanking her imaginary wand gods for

allowing her do correctly complete a spell.

'Take a cup of this, got it?' She stood up, turned away from

him and measured a small amount into a clay mug that she found sitting by on

the bedside table. When she turned back around, he was waiting expectantly

for the glass. She traded the cup for the clipboard. 'I'll be back

sometime mid-afternoon.' He raised the cup in a mock toast and gulped it

down. Erin took the cup and stepped towards the door, clipboard in hand.

Suddenly, remembering something she'd wanted to ask him, she turned around.

He was watching her patiently. 'Have you told anyone else about that night?

Anyone?'

'No. Only the people with me know what happened.' Erin nodded

and wrinkled her nose in confusion.

'Alright...are you sure?' There was a meek bow of the fading

man's head. Erin sighed. 'I won't tell anyone either.' Lupin nodded and

smiled gratefully, fighting to keep his eyes open. He must be really weak

if the potion works that fast on him, Erin reflected. She left the dark

wardroom quickly and hurried down the hall towards Gregory's office.

Glancing down at the top paper, she saw written there in a tidy scrawl,

Thank you. Erin brushed an incompetent lock of hair out of her face and

smiled. He's nice enough for sure. Heck, it's hard to imagine what he's

like when he's a werewolf. That'd be weird. And as she headed down the

hall, something popped into her mind. Dammit, he's still calling me Miss

Langhart! I hate the name!

'Great, you're up,' Erin remarked as she walked through the

SOUP's doors and saw that Remus Lupin was sitting up in his bed reading a

magazine. The chocolate bar had been opened and nibbled on. He was looking

slightly less drawn. Erin sat down in the chair she had previously occupied

and read the cover of his magazine. 'The Witch Weekly?' asked she, with an

inquisitive face. 'What's that? It sounds like gossip central to me.'

'And so it is,' Lupin agreed. 'The Daily Prophet is the only

published piece that has anything interesting in it at all. Well, The

Quibbler does at times, but hardly anyone takes it seriously. This one's

the only one with any worth in that whole pile.' He jerked his head towards

the pile and Erin inspected it. They were still very neatly arranged. She

balked at some of the titles. Vampire's Tribune? She wondered. What would

drive a poor soul to read that?

'I see,' said Erin, but she really didn't see. 'Well, I wasn't

able to develop any good hypothesizes based off the data I gathered earlier

today, but something's in the works. Anyway, I stopped by to say hi.

Seeing how you're my only patient, and I've got nothing to do right now.'

'Thank you.'

'Oh,' Erin laughed, remembering his note, 'I got your note you

left on your medical records. Very funny.' Lupin smiled shyly again. He's

got a charming smile, Erin thought. I wonder how he looks when he's not as

tense as he is right now. 'How'd you write it? Not with my pencil,

surely.'

'No, not with your pencil,' Lupin agreed and closed the

magazine. 'They forgot to take my wand away,' he indicated the nightstand

and grinned. 'Not that I have the strength to do much more with it than

write two words.' He chuckled softly and took the chocolate off the table.

'Would you like some?' asked he, looking at Erin and breaking a slab off.

Erin shrugged and took the piece he offered. He broke a piece off for

himself and wrapped the chocolate back up.

'Thanks.' She tasted the corner and smiled. It was good, just

like the chocolate at home but had a metallic flavor she couldn't quite

place. 'What type is this? It's good.'

'I thought you might like it,' said Lupin. 'Mungo's imports top

quality chocolate from around the world. This is from around Innisfail.'

Erin nodded in recognition. 'It's a lot better than the chocolate I've had

from Equador.'

'I'm not familiar with that place,' said Erin. 'Is it near

here?' Lupin laughed and set the chocolate back on the nightstand.

'No, it's no where near here,' responded Lupin with a suppressed

smile. 'It's on the other side of the world; south of Central America,

actually. I'm surprised that you didn't know that.' He gave Erin a

reproving look; one a teacher might to a child caught misbehaving.

'Naw,' Erin giggled. 'Why would I know something like that for

what I do?' Lupin raised his eyebrows and Erin laughed. 'I never did very

well in Geography, always had a B-. There wasn't a thing that I could do to

bring that grade up. Well, beside study for the exams and stuff like that,

but why waste all that time when you could be doing something else on a

beautiful day?'

'Like what?' asked Lupin curiously, leaning back into the

massive pillows on his bed.

'Well,' Erin began, 'like seafaring or surfing, for example.

There's nothing like a cool breeze to take you out to sea, or capering with

a grindylow.' Lupin was politely amazed, showing hardly any emotions on his

tired face.

'Have you done that?' Erin gave him a sidelong stare and pulled

a pen out of her robe's pocket. She studied it for a while before gently

tapping it on her chair's armrest.

'Yeah, I've done it once or twice,' said she, rather

noncommittally. 'It was ridiculous more than anything.'

'Why?' asked Lupin, eyeing the pen. 'It seems to me it would be

more dangerous than anything else.' Erin shrugged and shifted slightly in

her chair, pen still tapping an intricate beat.

'Well, they're dangerous for sure,' she agreed, 'but come on,

they're grindylows! What could go wrong?' Lupin's smile was reserved.

'The students in my third year class at Hogwarts thought as you do,' he

remarked, 'but that was before I brought an actual grindylow into the

class.' He chuckled. 'Wonderful things, grindylows.'

'Umm, sure, whatever you say,' said Erin dismissively. 'Maybe you've never

seen a Queen's grindylow, but they're smaller and stouter than the other

species. Devilish, nasty little twerps. They're great fun to annoy, but

you've got to be able to make a quick get away. They can't run very fast,

but damns not fun for you if you stick around and wait for them to catch

up.' Erin giggled. 'The big ones are the only ones that really creep me

out,' said she with a shiver.

'Where do you find these Queen's grindylows, exactly?' asked Lupin.

'In Queensland, around Mount Morgan. My father owns a house up there, and

we sometimes visit it. The place is always crawling with them.' Erin

shivered.

'Hmmm...' Erin looked the clock on the nightstand and abruptly

stuffed the pen back into her pocket.

'I've got to be going,' she observed, and stood up. 'You want

some more of that before I go?' asked she and waved a hand towards the

bottle of sleeping potion. Lupin shrugged and Erin gritted her teeth. Come

on! She thought. It'd be more difficult if you were mute! 'Alright, I'll

leave you to it then,' said she and left the ward. Lupin sighed as the door

clicked shut and stared back to the ceiling.

Erin woke up at eleven o'clock with jarring pains shooting

through her entire body. She was drenched in a cold sweat and her heart was

double lapsing. Icy cold hands wrapped around her neck like a vice. What

the bloody hell? She thought as she climbed out of bed. She swayed on her

feet, stumbled, and was barely able to catch herself on one of the bedposts.

The room swam in fuzzy circles about her. My god, what is this? She

shambled to the bathroom, grabbing onto anything that she could to keep

herself upright. She retched just as she flung the toilet lid up. Vast

amounts of horrible, pungent, black liquid poured out her mouth. It must

have been something I ate.

Twenty minutes later, and three more doses of almost garroting

on her vomit, Erin stepped away from the toilet and hung onto the bathroom

sink for dear life. Her eyesight faded and returned in pulses, making the

fuzzy world seem to move as in an old fashioned picture. Carefully, she

wound her way back to her bed and picked her wand off the floor. Still not

thinking straight, she flopped back into bed and stuffed her wand under her

pillow. Her sleep didn't last very long. Within minutes, she was up out of

bed again, racing to the bathroom, and doubling over the toilet. God, she

muttered to herself, trying to calm the hurling sensation in her stomach,

the fish at dinner must have been rotten for weeks. Weeks and weeks and

weeks. Maybe the English like fermented fish; adds to the flavor. She

laughed and then gagged as more dark broth flowed out her mouth. Damn, I

didn't know that my stomach could hold all that. Oh, wait, she realized, her

mind slowly gripping reality. I'll check all those medicines I brought with

me; there's bound to be something for this. Reeling slightly, she stood up

and sorted through the medicine cabinet behind the bathroom mirror. Erin

found a bottle of Eddy's Excellent Gut Tranquilizer, unscrewed the cap,

gulped half of the red liquid down, and prayed that it would sedate her

stomach instead of killing her.

Her mind was her own again, and her stomach was anew. The Gut

Tranquilizer tasted like the vomit she'd been chucking, but it calmed her

stomach the moment it slid to the bottom of her throat. Squinting, Erin

scratched her head and stared at the appalling liquid floating in the

toilet, determined to know what caused her so much pain. With a yelp, she

ran back to her bed and grabbed her wand from under her pillow. She raced

back to the bathroom and pointed the tip of her wand at the blackness in the

toilet. 'Delfinum,' she whispered and a jet of blue light encircled the

toilet's contents. Squinting, she watched as the spell took hold and began

to form pictures that blurred around the vomit in a circle. As soon as she

was able to understand one of them, it would fly by at record speed. Stupid

rhabdomyoma, I never was that good at it. This is where Father would take

over, she thought as she endeavored to see more of visions. Flashes of the

SOUP hospital room revolved in and out of Erin's vision. She saw herself sit

down and watched as Lupin handed her a slab of chocolate. Then, with a pop,

the whole twirling blue mass of light disappeared and left Erin slightly

more confused than she had started out as.

'Shit,' she whispered as she scratched her chin. 'Oh, damn.'

Gritting her teeth in alarm, she ran back to the bedroom, flung a robe over

her pajamas, and bolted towards her flat's door. 'Damn,' she whispered again

as she glanced over her shoulder to the clock. Midnight twenty? Goddamn.

It's too late to catch any taxis. Oh, I hope this works. She pulled her

wand out of her pocket and pointed it at herself. Cowering before it, she

murmured the incantation and disappeared with a snap, only to reappear

outside the store front that led to the lobby of St. Mungo's. Thank god,

Erin thought as she rushed through the glass and into the dark lobby.

Slightly disoriented, she made her way down the hall to Gregory Avatt's

office and then to the SOUP ward on the fourth floor.

'Remus,' she called urgently as she opened the door and looked

around. 'Oh no.' She knelt by the bed and shook her head. 'Dear lord.'

Her fingers shivered as the felt for a pulse on his deathly cold arm. It

was faint, but present. His face was covered in sweat and his breathing was

obstructed. 'I know just how you feel.' Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she

tried her very hardest to remember what symptoms like Lupin's warranted.

Come on, think! She yelled at herself in her mind. It's not the

transformation, not the after effects...bloody hell what is it? Can't be

the lunar phase in accordance to his state. Wouldn't be the sleeping draft

earlier in the day; those symptoms would have been present when I checked on

him earlier. What is it? She sat down in the chair that was unmoved from

earlier that afternoon and put her head in her hands.

'Miss Langhart?' Erin slowly rose her eyes to meet Lupin's

blood shot ones. His voice was softer than any sound she'd ever heard.

'It's Erin, dammit!' she snapped in her fear-shaken voice, but

quickly added, 'Yes?'

'What's wrong with me?' Erin stared at his pallid face in a

trance like state, wincing for him every time he had to swallow.

'I don't know. Have you been up long?' Lupin nodded and Erin

grimaced. 'What does it feel like?' Lupin considered his situation for a

moment and then closed his eyes.

'It feels like poison,' he whispered. Erin felt as though she

had just ran into a brick wall. Of course, she thought. God damn, I have

got to be one of the most stupid... 'But I wouldn't know very much about

poison, except for when I take the wolfsbane potion, which sometimes tastes

like poison.' Good, he still has his sense of humor.

'Where's the chocolate?' demanded Erin. Lupin looked over to

where it lay on the bedside table. Erin grabbed it off the table and

clutched it in her hands. After examining it for a few moments, she turned

back to Lupin. 'Who gave this to you?' Lupin frowned.

'The Healer Jensen did, I think. It was dark when he brought it

to me last night.'

'Got it.'

'Why is that...' Lupin convulsed in pain and moaned. Erin set

the chocolate on her chair and immediately took Lupin's pulse. It was the

same.

'The chocolate contains a mediocre dosage of mercury, which

would explain why it tasted so original and why we both had

such...alarming...reactions.'

'You had a reaction as well?' Lupin's eyes blurred.

'Well sure,' said Erin, moving the chocolate and sitting back

down in her chair. 'Otherwise, how would I have known to come? Believe me,

I know exactly how you feel.' A tired smile appeared on Lupin's lips and

Erin stood up, turning towards the door. Lupin watched as she drew her wand

out of her robe pocket and pointed it to the door. Feeble sparks erupted

from the end. 'Um, would you mind if I used your wand?' asked Erin as she

turned back around, looking at her wand with pure loathing. Lupin shook his

head and Erin snatched his wand off the table. 'Thanks; my stupid wand is

bloody mental.' With a deep breath, she said, 'Accio Eddy's Gut Potion!' A

few seconds later, the red bottle whizzed through the door, leaving a

perfect impression of it engraved into the wood. Erin caught it with a

smile and uncorked the top. 'Here, drink the rest of this,' she directed,

thrusting the bottle at Lupin who drank it gratefully.

'Thanks,' he murmured. 'What's wrong with your wand?'

'It's not my wand,' responded Erin with a shrug. 'It was my

mum's wand before she died. We never were able to find a perfect wand for

me, so I got Mum's. Works great, sometimes.'

'Thanks for coming up here.' Right now, or from Australia?

'Sure.' Erin turned back to the door and walked over to it.

'Are you leaving,' asked Lupin, with a frightened look on his

face. Erin grinned as she looked back, his wand still clutched in her hand.

'Naw, I'm fixing the door.'


	4. An Outing to Hogsmead

CHAPTER FOUR: An Outing to Hogsmead

Erin stepped through the SOUP ward for what she felt was like the

one millionth time that day. She smiled when she saw Lupin up and walking

around. He smiled back and sat down on the edge of his bed. Erin pulled up

a chair and began to flip through the massive amounts of papers on her

clipboard. Lupin watched thoughtfully.

'You should be thankful, Lupin,' Erin told him, pulling a thin

packet of papers off the board. 'I had to visit Healer Avatt so many times

today he practically warded his office off to me.' She uncapped her pen and

handed it to him. 'Sign here,' she directed, pointing to a line on the

paper. Lupin signed in perfect, graceful letters. 'Alright, now I have to

sign a load of other places,' said Erin, taking the pen back and sloppily

scribbling her name down on the page.

'You really could work on your penmanship, you know,' Lupin

remarked as the pen was handed back to him. He wrote his name extra

carefully this time, as if to prove his point. Erin sighed and snatched the

pen back from him when he was done.

'Ah, one more thing to worry about on a beautiful day,' laughed

she, scribbling her name down again, extra messily. She examined the packet

again, and then clipped it back onto the board. 'That's it for signatures.

Actually,' she added, 'that's it. Done.' She stood up and pushed her chair

back against the wall. Lupin followed, grabbing a cane that had been hidden

next to him and heaving himself up with it.

'So I'm out of here?' asked he, uncertainly. Erin laughed.

'Yeah, after a month and a half? You'll have to reintroduce

yourself into the real world, you know, since you've been so out of touch

for such a long time.' Lupin smiled. 'See you later, then,' said Erin.

'Yes, I guess I'm through with this place, for the time being,'

added Lupin. 'I'll be back, I'm sure.'

'Well, try to stay away for a little bit,' Erin cautioned. 'I'm

not so sure that Avatt is pleased about reading a report about you every

week. He must know you just as well as your own mother does.'

'Did,' Lupin corrected without the slightest sign of remorse.

'Anyway, it's not my fault that he didn't like to read them. You're the one

who filled them with sarcastic and utterly boring phrases like: Œtoday he

slept for four hours and woke wanting more chocolate.' Well.' Erin held up

her hand for peace.

'You didn't offer any help, now did you?' Lupin was about to

respond, but Erin continued. 'Anyway, you've got to get back to your life.

I'll see you when I do.'

'Good bye, then, Miss Langhart.' Lupin walked clumsily out of

the ward. With a sigh, Erin waited before following him. I can tell he's

going to be one of those patients I'm going to miss.

Erin walked through the main hall that led from the permanent

ward to her office on the ground floor. She had a lunch break in twenty

minutes, giving her just enough time to write up a report on one of her

newer patients in the memory loss ward. This new patient was interesting.

Imagine being hit with a memory charm so many times you think you're an

eggplant. Erin sighed and wound her way through the patients seeking help

on the Creature Induced Injuries floor, also known as the first. Motley

lot, these, giggled Erin, knowing she should restrain herself. After all,

it had only been two weeks since she had left this floor. A teen, possibly

sixteen or seventeen, looked at her with frightened, bloodshot eyes. His

left shoulder had been bandaged and his face had several premature scratches

across it. Erin winced as she passed him. I know a new werewolf when I see

one, she shuddered. I'll be seeing him soon.

As she hopped off the last step of the stairs that led her

almost directly from her office to the first floor, she noticed Head Healer

Gregory talking to Jensen in front of the hall that was the direct passage

to her office. Well talking puts it lightly, she thought as seriously as

she heard Gregory's voice raise to a roar. I'll just mosey along this way,

she decided and took the less direct route through the packed lobby. Serves

old Jensen right, she thought viciously. I'd sooner trust a tribe of my old

Queen grindylows with my life than see that man trusted with my wardrobe.

The lobby was packed with wizards and witches, mostly with foul

dispositions, seeking help from the harassed welcome witch. Linda's having

one hell of a day already, Erin laughed and gave her friend a wave. Linda

answered it quickly, and then hurried to help a wizard that was in the

process of turning into a tree. Smiling, Erin dodged through the patients

and moved closer to the far less crowed hallway to her office.

'Hello, Miss Langhart,' said a familiar voice from behind her.

Erin spun around to see Lupin looking tired, but pleased with himself.

'Hey,' Erin greeted, moving out of the way of a witch who was

shooting flames out of her mouth. 'Whatcha doing here?' Lupin shrugged.

'I've got to pick up another dose of your wolfsbane potion,

actually.' He looked slightly uncomfortable at the question, but managed to

smile politely back.

'I see. It's working for you then?' Great, small talk, my

favorite. Lupin seemed to enjoy her response almost as much as he had

enjoyed her first question.

'Yes, much more so than any other that I've taken.' He viewed

the other patients, clearly bored. Erin giggled as she spotted a woman with

an inflated blowfish jammed up her nose appear in the lobby. 'What?'

'N...nothing,' Erin stuttered, positive Lupin wouldn't approve

of her amusement. 'Say, I've got to finish writing this report, but I've

lunch in twenty minutes. Want to join me?' Lupin was surprised as the

offer. 'I mean,' Erin continued, quickly, 'the lines up on the third floor

office are unbelievably long. You'll be up there a good fifteen minutes, if

you're lucky.' Lupin raised his eyebrows incredulously. 'Serious,' said

Erin at the look on his face. 'So what'd you say?'

'Sure,' Lupin submitted. 'Sounds fun. I'll just mosey on up to

the third floor and meet you at your office when I'm done?' Erin nodded.

'Great. I'll be off then.' With a sharp inclination of his head, Lupin

strode to the huge staircase that Erin had just descended, his cane clicking

with every other step he took. Erin watched him for a few seconds longer and

then made her way to her office.

Alright, Erin thought, pulling a pen out of one of her desk's

drawers and sitting down to write. Let's see. She uncapped the pen and

began to write. Report # 57›Concerning the Mental Capacities of Mr. Vincent

Riggley. Erin giggled. Probably shouldn't add he insists he's from the

genus and species of eggplant. She considered this for a few moments. Well,

maybe I should. After all, that's key in his whole situation. Erin brushed

a strand of hair out of her face and continued. Vincent Riggley, admitted

into St. Mungo's at three forty in the afternoon on February the eighth of

this year, was impaired both mentally and physically by the ŒOblivion'

memory charm. After several studies, and two weeks of constant

surveillance, it is still unclear if we may be able to lift the memory charm

itself or, indeed, ever restore Mr. Riggley to his prior mental state.

Let it also be known that Mr. Riggley now considers himself part

of the...Erin stopped and flipped through a thick Herbology book that lay on

her stacked on her desk. Eggplant, where's eggplant? Eventually, she found

the Latin name, which everyone at the hospital preferred, and continued.

Solanum melongena species and prefers to be addressed as ŒFruit'. He

believes that he requires massive amounts of water to Œgrow', and also

complains of the insufficient amounts of sunlight that he needs to complete

his photosynthesis process. He neither needs to Œgrow' nor does he use

photosynthesis to produce his energy. This he gets by consuming about three

to four bars of chocolate a day. He also misses his home where, until

recently, was located near Devonshire. Apparently, it has been relocated to

a floodplain off the Yellow River in China.

I am not positive why he has gained this extraordinary knowledge

about the eggplant. Each of my hypothesizes are based on pure guesswork and

I can fairly safely assume that there will be no hard evidence about the

causes. The most likely reason, and the one that I am most comfortable in

supporting, would be the Reverse Oblivion Spiral Effect, otherwise known as

ROSE. I believe whomever cursed Mr. Riggley knew a great deal about

eggplants. My guess is that instead of clearing Mr. Riggley's memory, his

attacker transferred some of his own memory into Mr. Riggley's mind. When

Mr. Riggley was aroused, all he could remember, or even think of, were

eggplants, so he assumed that's what he was. There was a quiet tapping on

Erin's door. 'Come in,' she called, and focused back on her paper. To read

other reports on patients suffering from the ROSE syndrome, see...Erin

searched the stack of books on her desk once more and glanced up at Lupin,

who was shutting the door. Curses And Their Profound, Exciting Effects, by

Walter Grimy. Lupin sat in a chair opposite her as she capped her pen. He

stared at the teetering pile of books.

'Your desk has become increasingly more disorganized since I was

last here,' noticed he. Erin shrugged and stuffed her report in an official

looking envelope. 'Which unlucky person are you treating now?' asked Lupin

with a grin.

'Mr. Vincent Riggley,' answered Erin, reading the envelope as

she sealed it. 'He has the most interesting case of memory loss that I've

ever encountered.'

'Steve?' asked Lupin, amazed. Erin looked up at him dubiously.

'You know him?' Lupin shrugged. 'Well, his middle name does

start with an Œs'.' Erin tossed the sealed envelope down on her desk and

picked her cloak off her chair. 'He is now referred to as Fruit,' said she,

impersonally.

'Fruit? Why?' Erin struggled into her cloak before she

answered. Lupin stood up with the aid of his cane as she grappled with the

coat, apparently undecided about whether or not he should help her.

'Because,' said Erin, at last, 'he was hit with the Oblivion

charm. It's a long story. He was hit with the Oblivion charm, it backfired

and created a kind of bond I guess you could say between him and his

attacker. Rather like what happened with What's-His-Face and Harry Potter.'

'That's not funny.'

'Sure it is.' She led Lupin out her office door and locked it, grinning at

the displeased look on his face. Head Healer Gregory Avatt appeared from out

his office door and greeted her.

'Hello, Miss Langhart,' said he, shaking her hand warmly and

peering up at the much taller Lupin. 'Who is he?' The Head Healer looked

over Lupin's cane with inquisitive eyes.

'Oh, Lupin?' asked Erin, motioning him to come forwards. He did

so, rather reluctantly and stood quietly by her side. 'He's a friend of

mine; we were just about to pop out for lunch.'

'I see,' bowing his head in recognition. 'Well, do enjoy

yourselves. I'm off to lunch myself.' With a courteous smile, he walked

briskly away.

'You didn't mention that I was a patient here for over a month,'

Lupin noted when the Head Healer was gone.

'Yeah, I know. Why should I have?' Erin stared up into his

curious face. He shrugged. He seems to do a lot of shrugging. 'No, you

could have told him if you'd deemed it necessary.' Lupin nodded and looked

around. Body language seems key with this one. 'So, where should we go?'

'Umm...have you been to the Leaky Cauldron?' asked Lupin.

'Once,' said Erin, scratching her chin, 'but it was for some

meeting with the Minister of Magic, and I wasn't too keen on the whole

situation. Tom was adequately creepy.' Lupin laughed at the description.

'You want to go there?'

'Or,' Lupin continued with a bright smile, 'we could go to the

Hogshead, down in Hogsmead.'

'Hogsmead?' asked Erin, uncertainly. 'Linda was telling me

about that place. It's the only non-Muggle community in Britain, right?'

Lupin nodded.

'Well, it's not strictly wizard, either,' he added, suppressing

a smile.

'Alright, let's go there!' said Erin enthusiastically, pulling

her wand out of her pocket. Lupin eyed it skeptically.

'Would it be a better idea if we just took a portal?' asked he,

staring down the wand darkly. 'I mean, wasn't it just the last time I was

here you were complaining about it was so unreliable you couldn't even

summon your quill without setting something on fire?' Erin smirked

wickedly.

'Relax,' ordered she. 'I stopped using quills a long time ago.

They're more work than what I want. No, I've got to hand it to the Muggles;

they've got these awesome pen things that are just great. You only have to

buy ink for them every so often, but I get it in these...' Lupin's eyes

wandered off across the hall. 'Anyway, I've arrived successfully at work six

days in a row now without anything happening, or having to take that nasty

form of Muggle transportation. What do you call it? Taxis? I think the

stars are finally fixing themselves.' Lupin pursed his lips, as though he

thought that her wand could use large amounts of correctional therapy, and

took out his own wand. With a wave, he disapparated and in a second, Erin

followed. She landed next to him with a grin on her face. 'Told you it

would work.'

'Welcome, Miss Langhart,' said Lupin, not paying any attention

to her last comment, 'to Hogsmead.' Erin inspected the grounds around her

and grinned in pure delight as light snowflakes brushed past her face.

Wizards dressed in classic robes wound their way in and out of

the rush of traffic, stopping here and there to peer through the windows at

different items. Occasionally they would warm their hands in their mufflers

while peering into brightly-lit windows, each as ornate and strange as the

next. Hordes of rosy-cheeked, blacked robed students, spattered with snow,

crowded in and around certain stores, and left others completely untouched.

Erin smiled to see a group of students leave, what appeared to be a candy

store, loaded down with all sorts of colorfully wrapped sweets.

'That's exactly what I'd be doing, were I that age,' she told

Lupin, pointing the group out and rubbing her hands together.

'You're not all that far off from that time,' said he,

sniggering and looking down upon her height as he leaned on his walking

stick. His hair was dusted with white powder; the melted water ran down his

forehead and nose. Erin drew herself up to her very tallest, at least a

good nine or ten centimeters smaller than he, before she answered.

'Very funny. In fact, I'm quite a bit older than them; a good

decade, probably.' Erin gave him a hard stare, but his smile didn't

disappear. She shivered in the cold. 'Why are there so many students?'

asked she, abandoning her attempts to sober him.

'The legendary English school, Hogwarts, lies just around that

bend,' remarked Lupin, pointing to a rolling hill covered with thick firs

donning plump marshmallow caps. Erin glanced that way, then back at another

small group of students that seemed to have spotted them.

'Weird,' said Erin. 'This whole place seems obsessed with

boars. Makes no sense at all to me.' The students were now pointing at

them and walking faster. 'Um, do you recognize any of them?' asked she,

nodding in the direction of the approaching students. Lupin gazed to where

Erin had indicated and smiled.

'Yes,' he laughed. 'I never dreamed we would seem them, though.

They're quite good friends of mine, actually,' he remarked when Erin snorted

in skepticism. The three students approached them.

'Hello, professor,' said a tall boy with would be bright red

hair, darkened with the melted snow. Erin looked up at Lupin with an

inquiring glance. What's the boy doing calling him a professor? She

wondered. 'What are you doing here?' He seemed to have overlooked Erin,

which was quite a feat, as she was taller than both his comrades were and

nearing his height. His friends, a thin dark haired boy and a friendly

looking girl, seemed to have noticed Erin, however. They stared at her

suspiciously.

'Not much,' said Lupin, smiling down at all of them. Good thing

he didn't miss Lupin, or I'd be worried, giggled Erin, watching her tall

friend in admiration. I always wished I was over six foot, but five ten

isn't far off. 'Erin and I were just stopping out for lunch.' The red

haired boy caught sight of Erin and nodded in greeting. Then the girl began

to speak.

'What do you do?' asked she, politely, drawing her cloak around

her. Erin considered this for a second, debating if it was a good idea to

mention her newest patient, Fruit. She thought better of it.

'I'm a healer at St. Mungo's,' answered she, laughing inwardly

to see their reactions to her Australian accent.

'Oh.' The girl appeared interested.

'What part of Australia do you come from?' the red haired boy blurted out.

The girl gave him an appraising look, along with a sharp nudge in the ribs.

'Ron, don't be rude,' she whispered. Ron's ears turned pink.

'I come from around the Bay area,' answered Erin. Hermione opened her mouth

to speak, but Lupin cut her off from any more questions.

'Hermione, we'd be glad to stay and chat, but Erin's got a

schedule she must attend to. Not to mention it's fiercely cold out here.'

The girl nodded and waved as she and her friends turned to leave. 'Oh,

Harry, Ron?' called Lupin after them. The two boys turned back around,

almost hidden in the strengthening snow. 'Good luck on making the Quidditch

House Cup,' said Lupin. They smiled in thanks, or so Erin thought they did,

and walked away.

'Quidditch?' asked Erin, interested. 'Do they play here?'

'Oh, yes,' answered Lupin, ushering her slowly down the streets

clogged with snow and shoppers. 'Harry is the Gryffindor Seeker and Ron is

the Keeper. Harry's been playing since his first year.' Lupin opened the

door to the Hogshead for her and proceeded to follow. He found an empty

booth in the back of the bar and helped Erin out of her sodden cloak then

took off his own. A waiter hurried over with two menus as Erin spelled both

their cloaks dry. Lupin smiled in gratitude and thanked the waiter as they

sat down. Quickly, Erin and Lupin scanned them briefly and then both

settled for a dish of fish and chips each. Erin watched their waiter

deliver their orders to a heavily colored witch serving a troll.

'Odd sort of place, this,' she told Lupin, who was also watching

the variety of customers. 'Jolly interesting, but just a touch off.'

'Yes,' agreed he. 'Frankly, I find some of the customers a

tad...disconcerting, but normally they keep a fairly tame house.' Erin

glanced back at him, worried. He was smiling and he watched a small pack of

goblins enter. 'Once in a while a goblin comes in to find someone that owes

him a score of money, but that's rare.' Erin watched the goblins carefully.

They seemed docile enough. 'That Madame Rosmerta,' he continued with a sigh

that Erin thought was almost wistful, 'she's something else. In my year at

Hogwarts...' He trailed off and Erin grinned wolfishly.

'Does the great werewolf have a crush on the bartender?' asked

she, trying desperately to keep a straight face. Lupin shot her a murderous

glare and then shook his head with an appreciative grin.

'No,' laughed he crookedly. 'No, I don't, but I know quite a

few men who do...and did.' His face loosened for a moment and then resumed

its playful smile. Erin looked away from his jovial face; embarrassed she

had even asked the question. He noticed. 'What?' asked he, smile never

leaving his eyes. 'Are you wondering who I like?' Erin rolled her eyes

snorted.

'Why did that boy back there call you a professor?' asked she,

changing the topic to a much safer one and refocusing her attention to

Lupin. He chuckled.

'Ron? I taught at Hogwarts, remember? I must have told you

that before.' Erin crinkled her brow in confusion. 'I was the Defense

Against the Dark Arts teacher,' explained he. 'Remember the grindylows and

hinkypunks?'

'Ahh, that's right,' remembered Erin. 'So what about the

Quidditch? They play a lot here, I'm guessing?'

'Yes, a fair amount. Why are you so keen on it?' Erin looked

away from Lupin's searching eyes.

'I used to play,' whispered she, not wanting to draw attention

to the fact, nor relive the moment when she was banned from playing

Quidditch in the Southern Hemisphere ever again.

'Did you now? As a hobby or professionally?' Lupin glowed with

enthusiasm. Erin sighed and continued.

'Well, I played for my House team, éthing, until the end of my

third year, and then got a place on my school team when I was fourteen,' she

explained, leaning forward onto the table, decreasing the distance between

them so she could lower her voice even further. 'Then, when I was eighteen

and a half, I was offered a position as the Australian Beater, playing

sidelong Alan Knars and my old school mate Gene Davids. Not to mention Ode

Harrow.' Lupin smiled. 'Yeah, so I played for a good six years on the team

before I gave it up and became an experimental wolfsbane specialist.' She

hoped that was the end of the conversation but, quite obviously, it wasn't.

'I never knew that about you,' remarked Lupin quietly. 'Six

years is an awfully long time to play for one team alone.' Damn right it

is, and I'm proud of it. Just look at Ode Harrow, he's played for Australia

for ten years!

'Yeah, well it was too short in whole,' answered Erin, keeping

her thoughts to herself. 'Much too short. Gene and I got to know Ode

fairly well, so he kept us around; the owner wasn't about to trade Ode, and

he knew it.'

'I've never seen him play,' admitted Lupin, watching Erin

carefully. 'Is he as good as everyone claims he is?' Erin laughed, not at

his ignorance but at those-who-told-him-about-Ode's ability. Clearly his

talents had never been accurately described to Lupin.

'He's unbeatable,' whispered she, remembering the late night

practices she spent marveling at Ode's agility and speed. 'I would give a

whole lot to be as good as he.' She smiled in reminiscence and looked back

up at Lupin. 'He's unbelievable to watch. I'm actually glad that I was a

member of the team and didn't have to watch. He pulls some of the most

nerve-racking moves,' specified Erin, at Lupin's confused look. 'Sometimes

he pretends he's a Chaser, and other times he decides he's the Seeker. He's

never been a Beater, but he has caught the Snitch once.' Lupin was

impressed. 'His dives are perfectly accurate, and vertical, and every

movement he makes looks like he's dancing.' Erin giggled then at a sudden

image that popped into her head. 'Just looks like he's dancing.'

'Of course,' Lupin agreed, also smiling.

'His favorite hobby is amusing the crowds,' noted Erin. 'He

tries to see how many flips and dives he can work into one period. If he

doesn't get more than six he considers his time wasted. You should see his

pre-game book.'

'A period?' Lupin asked, bewildered. Erin grinned, realizing she

had unconsciously slipped back into her old Quidditch lingo.

'Around fifty five minutes or so. They vary depending on the

ref, the country, and the hemisphere. The southern periods are a bit

shorter than these up here. No one really pays much attention to periods,

except the players and the coaches. The longest game I ever played in,'

said she, changing the focus of the conversation, 'was versus Iceland at the

World Cup games in Quebec. That game lasted us thirty-two periods in total,

before Gene caught the Snitch. We had to bring on the reserve players to

play the night shift.' Erin laughed. 'Bloody vicious, and bloody cold,

game that turned out to be. It was December in Australia, so we were all set

to play in the summer. Nasty shock when it turned out to be snowing. On

the twenty-ninth period I was fouled three times and given a red tag.

Couldn't tell if Alan was more mad at the refs or at me. Ah, well.' Lupin

laughed.

'You sound like you were quite the player,' said he. 'I would

have like to see you play.' Erin leaned off the table to let their waiter

serve them two huge plates of deep fried fish.

'I'm still a good player,' said Erin defensively, unwrapping her

silverware. Lupin shrugged and began to eat his own food.

'Why'd you give up Quidditch if you had a World Cup under your

belt?' asked he, remembering reading about Australia's victory over Iceland

in the Daily Prophet.

'Not only did I have one World Cup, but three,' said Erin

smugly, poking her fish slabs with her fork. 'Iceland was the end of our

winning streak. We won over Iceland, Puerto Rico, and Germany in World

Cups, but we won the Southern Hemisphere Conference five times out of the

six years I was on the team. Poor Congo, we had to beat them twice.' Erin

drifted off, remembering all the games. 'I'm quite depressed that Bulgaria

ousted us from the World Cup two years back; we'd have beaten the Irish in a

heartbeat.'

'Why'd you give it up?' asked Lupin, again.

'I...well, I...' Erin stopped and started three times, unsure if

she wanted to disclose information about a subject she was rather touchy

about. She didn't feel quite alright with lying to her friend either. For

a few minutes she picked at her food soundlessly, debating, but was

interrupted when a deep, rich voice called out in surprise. 'Remus! What

ever are yeh doin' here?' Erin watched with a mixture of fascination and

pure terror as a man the size of a humpback yearling, but seeming in

appearance to be more of a bear, pushed his way through the thick crowds and

over to their table. His hair was almost white with snow, his coat covered,

and what Erin could see of his face was red with cold. Erin glanced outside

and was amazed to find that she couldn't see past the home blown glass

windows.

'Hagrid,' smiled Lupin, and slipped his napkin out of his lap.

'He's a professor and ground warden at Hogwarts,' explained he to Erin and

then stood up to greet the much larger man. I bloody hell wouldn't want to

be as tall as this Hagrid, thought Erin. Couldn't ride a broom farther than

a league without falling of. 'How's everything at the school?' Hagrid shook

Lupin's offered hand enthusiastically; snow fell off his massive shoulders

and onto the floor.

'Oh, greah, jus' fine.' Erin followed their conversation

carefully, uneasy about this huge man. 'I jus' introduced hinkypunks ta me

secon' years. They're righ' an' terrified o' the little buggers. Strange

thing, tha'. I know if I were a hinkypunk I'd ah be more afraid o' the

secon' years.' You're anything but a hinkypunk. 'Anyway, got tipped off by

Ron, Hermione, and Harry that ye were down here. How's stuff going...'

Hagrid caught a glimpse of Erin out of his thick, black hair and stopped

himself. 'At...at You-Know-Where?' Lupin looked as though he could have

quite happily jinxed Hagrid, and turned to give a severe look to Erin. She

got the message plain and loud: Don't dare ask him, or me, where that is.

'Oh, everything is perfectly normal,' said he, closing the topic

to conversation. 'What are you doing here?'

'Ah.' For a second, Hagrid looked confused. 'Well, I was goin'

ta mail,' he waved an especially large envelope around, 'this ta...ta

You-Know-Where.' Lupin looked incensed that Hagrid had been able to weasel

You-Know-Where back into the conversation.

'I see,' said he, coolly and sank back into the booth's seat.

'Well, I won't keep you then.'

'Nah, ye won't,' Hagrid agreed. 'Good day ta ye all then.' He

nodded to Erin and wandered towards the door. Lupin was shooting dark looks

at everyone who bothered to look his way. Erin seemed to collect the

majority. Surprised by this sudden change in attitude, Erin quietly

finished her fish, not even daring to do as much as speak to Lupin.

'I'm really sorry about all this,' apologized Lupin when she had

taken her last bite. Erin guessed he had finished several minutes before by

the look on his face. 'I did not mean to let Hagrid's comments get to me

like that.' He smiled awkwardly. 'What were you saying before he arrived?'

'Umm....' Erin tried her best to give a convincing appearance of

confusion. 'Dunno.' Lupin squinted, also concentrating.

'I think,' he began, 'you were telling me why you left the

Australian International Team.' Darn. He's good. 'I can't be too sure.'

I thought I had him there. Ah, what's the big deal, said another voice in

her head. It's not like he'll laugh at you or something like that. You'll

be fine, just tell him. He wants to know. You can trust him! Cannot!

Argued the first voice. He won't tell you where you-know-were is; how can

you trust him if he doesn't trust you? Erin thought this voice had a point,

but the second voice chose not to respond. You'll trust him in time, it

said instead. Don't you want to?

'Miss Langhart?' asked Lupin quizzically. Lupin was gazing at

her in a worried fashion that bothered her. 'Are you alright?'

'Yeah,' said Erin, obstinately not looking his direction.

'Yeah, fine. I just need a bit of fresh air.' Lupin raised his eyebrows

slightly, glanced out the windows at the blizzard, and shrugged.

'Of course,' agreed Lupin, helping her out of her chair. I'm

fine, thought Erin defiantly. I'm not any business of yours to take care

of! She glanced up into Lupin's eyes, angry and irked, but was surprised to

find the worried look on his face absent. The look that was now present on

his face made her forget all the suspicions she had towards him. For a

moment, they both seemed captured by one another's gaze. Then, in a

fleeting second, it was all gone. Lupin held her coat out for her. Timidly,

she eased into it, his hands lingered on her shoulders and then dropped to

his side. Erin itched her nose, curiosity welling inside of her. Lupin dug

in his pockets for the correct change.

'Allow me,' said Erin, stopping his hand with her own. 'My

treat.' Lupin looked as though he was going to refuse. Erin held up her

hand for silence and produced eight Galleons on the spot. They chinked onto

the table. 'It's settled; you're not paying.' With a grin that Lupin did

not answer, she walked away from their booth with Lupin in tow.

'You didn't need to do that!' he hissed when they were both

outside taking refuge from the storm under the Hogshead awning. 'I'm

perfectly conscious about my money, otherwise I wouldn't have accepted your

offer to join you! I'm fine!' Erin turned around to face him, perplexed.

His own cloak's collar was pulled up around his neck and one hand was

stuffed violently into the borderline threadbare pockets, the other gripped

his cane tightly.

'I had no idea that money was an issue for you, Remus,' said

she, truthfully and somewhat surprised. He stopped short, midway through

his next sentence and grumbled through the rest. 'Honest truth be told, I

thought I would pay for the meals since I offered. If it's really that much

of a problem, then you can pay in the future!' She wasn't mad, but she

could see that she had surprised Lupin as well. A slight wind was picking

up, throwing bushels of cold snow at them.

'No, it's no problem,' whispered he, staring straight into the snow and

briefly taking a hand out of his pocket to fix his damp hair. 'What was it

you were going to tell me?' Erin sighed at his persistence.

'Let's walk,' she offered, looking up a barely visible lane that

led into the densely wooded mountains. 'What do you say?' Lupin stared

incredulously at her with worried eyes. Erin rolled her eyes and snorted in

impatience. Without looking back to see if Lupin was indeed following her,

Erin took off down the path.

'Are you sure you're alright?' asked Lupin when he caught up

with her sometime later beneath the dark green firs. Snow drizzled down

from the sky where the thick branches failed to meet. She laughed but

didn't turn to face him.

'I'm fine.' Lupin walked up behind her.

'Why, then, are you like this?' Erin jumped round at the

closeness of his voice and was caught by his piercing eyes. Again, like at

the restaurant, they held her gaze tightly. 'Are you avoiding that

question?'

'No...' replied Erin, voice dripping with sarcasm, and wrenched

her eyes from his grasp. Lupin continued to watch her, confused and cold.

Erin was ashamed to have answered so. After all, his intentions were merely

polite, correct? Damnit, if he was being half polite he would have given up

this question back in the bar, a suspicious thought nagged in the back of

her mind. No one can help being curious, said a far more reasonable one.

It's not every day that a Beater almost kills someone. Erin sighed inwardly

at that remark. I didn't almost kill Narthing! She thought shamelessly. I

know, said the first voice. But you can't trust him. He's bad news; all

werewolves are! Erin looked around, embarrassed and horrified that that

thought had dare enter her mind. You dare talk about werewolves that way

again! She thought, beating the repulsive thought into a fine pulp. You

just try! You wait I will, said the voice with an added sneer. We'll see

that I won't wait! Erin cried in her mind. She glanced over at Lupin, who

was patiently waiting her response atop a thickly snowed upon boulder. He

seemed to have spelled it so the snow wouldn't soak into his clothes.

'I don't like to repeat why...' she began, ducking under a tall

tree.

'Well, then don't,' said he, reasonably. Just like that voice

in my head.

'No,' Erin continued, 'you're obviously curious and I've still

another forty minutes before I'm on call again at Mungo's. A story to pass

the time, right?' Lupin looked unsure.

'I don't know if that's such a great idea,' he told her. 'After

all, it's just a Quidditch match, right? Leave it, if you want to.' Erin

knew this was his polite way of asking her to not tell. But I don't want to

leave it. 'And...it sure is cold out!' He rubbed his arms. Erin rolled her

eyes and took out her wand. Quickly, before Lupin could utter so much as a

sound, she placed a warming charm around them. The look of relief on his

face was comical. 'Never use your wand on me again,' requested he with a

shiver.

'Why'd you leave your job at Hogwarts?' asked Erin, joining him

against the boulder. He grunted. Nice answer, mate. That took real talent

to come up with one as good as that. For a few moments they sat in utter

silence, listening to the wind howl through the trees, encompassing every

bough in cold snow. A sharp, haunting scream pierced the air. Erin's

instinctive reaction was to curse the first thing that moved. Thankfully,

Lupin stopped her hand from even reaching her pocket.

'A Golden Eagle!' whispered he, pushing himself off the boulder

and watching the gray skies above. A lone raptor circled above, wings never

moving. Lupin stared at it in awe. Erin followed him

'What's the big deal?' asked she. 'I've seen plenty of falcons

back home bigger than he.'

'That bird,' answered Lupin, turning around to face her, 'that

bird is hunted; almost none exist in this area of the world. The live up in

northern Scotland, near the Isle of Sky, but I've never seen one as far

South as this. The people that hunt them are afraid of them, for whatever

reason. Muggles do mostly. I think they're afraid that they'll eat too

many fish up near the Scottish fishing grounds.' He stared at the bird

skeptically. 'They have enough fish up there to feed everyone in the States

for a week.' Erin snorted.

'How many are left?'

'A handful, possibly,' said Lupin. 'Some Muggle scientists are

trying to reintroduce them, but the project isn't going so smoothly. It

seems that if the fishermen don't kill them off then they die anyway from

the climate conditions.' He shook his head. 'They're so beautiful and

graceful. I can't see why anyone would think that they're killers. Hunted

because people don't understand.'

'Like the people who are hostile towards you?' asked Erin.

Lupin contemplated this for a second, eyes boring into Erin's head. She

tried to hold his gaze, tried so hard, but blinked. Lupin smiled.

'Exactly.'


End file.
